


Everybody's Looking for Something

by Rynne



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Aftercare, Anal Play, Anal Plug, Anal Sex, BDSM, Barebacking, Bottom Stiles Stilinski, Cuddling & Snuggling, Dom!Derek, Dom/sub, Established Relationship, Handcuffs, Light Bondage, M/M, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Spanking, Top Derek Hale, Vibrators, sub!Stiles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-13
Updated: 2013-09-13
Packaged: 2017-12-26 11:53:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,984
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/965626
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rynne/pseuds/Rynne
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>So Derek lets himself stop thinking about anything but Stiles, and what Stiles needs.  At least here he knows he can fulfill those needs.  D/s PWP.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Everybody's Looking for Something

**Author's Note:**

> So [erinpond](http://erinpond.tumblr.com/)/[linksofmemories](http://archiveofourown.org/users/linksofmemories) said there has not been enough Dom!Derek Sterek recently. I agreed with this, because I like Dom!Derek and I think there’s never enough of it. :p Then it occurred to me that I can do something about this, and thus was born my first Teen Wolf fic. I am new to the fandom and mostly a lurker, though, so this is unbetad.
> 
> Anyway. This is for Erin, for inspiring me, and also my birthday is the 16th so it’s an early birthday present to myself as well. :p I enjoyed writing it, so hopefully you enjoy reading it.
> 
> Title comes, of course, from Eurythmic's "Sweet Dreams (Are Made of This)".

The leather's supple under his hand. Derek runs his fingers over the cuffs to make sure, once again, but most of his attention is elsewhere. He's handled the cuffs enough that he doesn't really need to check anymore.

"You're sure?" he asks again, letting one hand drop to land in Stiles's hair.

Stiles doesn't look up, but his mouth quirks in a small smile. "I think I'm the one who should be asking you that," he replies. "I'm not the one who's been delaying and delaying--"

Derek's fingers tangle in Stiles's hair and tighten, though he's careful not to move Stiles's head. Not yet. Not until he's sure. "If we're doing this, I get to decide when," he reminds Stiles.

Stiles doesn't nod, not with Derek's hand still in his hair, but he makes an affirming noise. "I know," he says, "and that's fine. That's good. But you have to be sure too."

Now Derek gently tugs Stiles's head back, smoothly and with no resistance. "Tell me your safe words," he orders.

Stiles doesn't even roll his eyes, though they've certainly discussed this -- and everything else -- so many times over the past two months. "Curly fries for keep going, mountain ash for slow down, kanima for stop."

When they first talked about safe words, and Stiles came up with his, Derek asked him if he really wanted to think of a scene whenever he ate curly fries. He responded that curly fries were practically orgasmic anyway so it wouldn't really be a problem. Derek was dubious, and still expects Stiles will want to change it in the future, but he'll let Stiles have the words he likes.

Even after their months of talks, though, Stiles is patient about discussing it. He trembles slightly under Derek's hand, but it smells like anticipation, not fear. Still, it's the patience that reassures Derek the most.

Stiles is sure.

He wasn't, in the beginning. He was curious, but his only exposure to submission was through porn. "I enjoyed it," he explained to Derek, "but I would always remember it was fake. I want to know what it's like when it's real. I think I might like that."

Derek did some domination in New York clubs, but while he enjoyed having control, in a situation where he could trust it, the control felt empty without real emotional intimacy.

Derek didn't have sex much after that revelation. He needed intimacy, but it had to be with someone he trusted -- someone worthy of his trust. 

And then Stiles happened.

Most of the time, Derek doesn't even know how they went from Stiles threatening to leave Derek to die to Stiles frantically trying to keep Derek alive and safe and then pulling Derek in so he can leave hickeys on Stiles's vulnerable throat. Derek can remember each individual step they took to get here, to a place where Stiles can kneel in front of him and submit, but it still feels surreal if he thinks about it too hard.

So Derek lets himself stop thinking about anything but Stiles, and what Stiles needs. At least here he knows he can fulfill those needs.

"Stand up," he orders, releasing Stiles's hair. "Strip down to your underwear, and wait for me on the bed."

As much as he likes to watch Stiles strip, see the slow reveal of that strong body from its mask of layers, he makes himself turn aside and open one of the top drawers in the dresser. He has the leather cuffs out and ready, but there are a few more things he would like to use on Stiles tonight. The drawer isn't very full -- they've been accumulating toys slowly over their months together -- but that's fine. He's going to start this new phase of their relationship slow and easy.

When he turns to the bed again, Stiles is kneeling on top of it, stripped down to gray boxer-briefs, his hands loose at his sides. He's watching Derek, and his gaze flicks down to Derek's hands and then back to his face, a smile flitting over his mouth.

Derek reaches the bed and puts the toy down, but he doesn't do anything with it yet. He meets Stiles's eyes, and sees Stiles focus his attention. He smells alert and ready, still no trace of fear. "Rule one," Derek says. "You use your safe words whenever you need to. Don't try to push through something you don't want because you think it will please me. It won't."

Stiles is entirely too self-sacrificing, especially for the people he cares about. Derek understands that's just how Stiles is, but in their bedroom, Stiles is going to learn to take care of himself -- or at least, let Derek take care of him.

Derek doesn't say anything else until Stiles both nods and replies, "Yes, Derek. Curly fries." One corner of his mouth quirks up at the words.

Derek returns the nod, though he wants to shake his head at Stiles's amusement. "Rule two," Derek goes on. "If you want something, you have to ask for it."

This one shouldn't be a problem. Stiles has never had any problem asking for what he wants in bed.

Begging for what he wants in bed.

"Kiss me?" Stiles asks, smiling impishly, before Derek can say anything else. Derek huffs out a breath, not quite a laugh, before he leans forward and complies. He keeps the kiss brief, his mouth closed, ignoring Stiles's parted lips, but when he draws back, Stiles is still smiling.

"Rule three," Derek continues. "No coming, or seeking your own pleasure, without my permission. This means no touching yourself, no grinding against me or the bed. You get something _only_ if you ask for it or I otherwise give my permission."

Stiles is quicker this time to show his agreement. 

"If you like this and want to do it again," Derek tells him, "I will have other rules for different scenes, but I think this is enough for now. Are you okay?"

"Curly fries," Stiles says, giving him a thumbs-up, and this time Derek can't help but grin.

He settles soon after, though. "Hands out," he orders, and Stiles immediately holds out his hands. His heart begins to pound faster, and the salty-Stiles smell of pre-come joins the arousal in Stiles's general scent. He stays still as Derek buckles the cuffs on, then flexes his wrists slightly after the buckles are tightened. "Curly fries," he says, without Derek having to ask.

The sight alone of Stiles cuffed and nearly naked makes him shiver, anticipation and arousal running through him. "Turn around," he murmurs, and Stiles silently complies, shifting around on his knees until his back faces Derek.

Derek steps closer, leaning in until he hovers directly behind Stiles. He itches to touch, but stops himself. He wants to set the scene first.

"Arms up," he says, watching as goosebumps surround the moles on Stiles's neck as warm breath hits his skin. Stiles's arms shoot up, and he tilts his head to one side in an invitation Derek rarely refuses -- but he does this time. Just for now.

He takes the cuffs' chain and winds it around the top of the headboard and one of the rungs, then takes Stiles's wrists and fastens the cuffs. He's draped all along the warmth of Stiles's naked back as he makes sure Stiles is securely tied to the bed -- close enough to feel the shifts even through his jeans as Stiles grinds his ass against Derek's crotch.

It's something Stiles does often in their regular sex life, and normally Derek would welcome it, but not now. He pulls away. "No, Stiles," he says, firm. "That's two of the rules you're trying to break right there, and we've barely even started. I'm already not sure you want to keep doing this."

Stiles lets out a startled sound of protest before finding his words again. "What? No!" he says. "I wasn't -- I just wanted --"

"I know what you wanted," Derek replies, moving until he's off the bed entirely. "But we agreed that you weren't to seek your pleasure without my permission, and I specifically told you not to grind against me. And we agreed that if you wanted something, you had to ask for it. Just grinding your ass against me doesn't sound like asking permission, does it?"

Stiles's back hunches a bit. "No," he admits. Then his back straightens again. "I wasn't trying to come, not yet. I wasn't really thinking. I just…I just wanted to feel you."

"I know," Derek says gently. "But do you think that's your decision right now?"

Stiles takes in a deep breath, then lets it out in a body-wide shudder. His heart rate, elevated since Derek chastised him, begins to slow and steady out. "No," he says again.

"That's right," Derek murmurs, stepping closer again. "It's my choice what to do with you. Or what not to do with you. And if you want something, you have to ask." He puts a hand on the nape of Stiles's neck, then runs it down his spine, letting his fingers catch on Stiles's moles. Stiles's back arches slightly before he catches himself and goes still, and Derek smiles, rests his hand on the swell of Stiles's fabric-covered ass.

"We're just starting, just figuring out our roles in this, so I'll be lenient this time," Derek tells him. "You'll just get a short punishment now."

Stiles goes a different kind of still, a thinking kind. Derek gives him a moment. If Derek knows him, and he does, Stiles is torn between his lust and his instinctual need to protest authority and punishment.

But Derek gives him only a moment. "Does that sound fair?" he prods, because the point of all of this is not to let Stiles think.

All Stiles needs, though, is the reminder that he's supposed to trust Derek, he _does_ trust Derek. The muscles in his shoulders, which had begun to bunch up, loosen again. He doesn't turn his head, but Derek can hear the smile in his voice when he says, "Curly fries."

"Good," Derek says, rewarding him with a kiss and small nibble right on the side of his neck, where Stiles is sensitive and loves to have Derek's mouth. He doesn't linger, though, because he wants to punish Stiles before they get to play.

Once he moves away again, he does take some time to appreciate the view. Stiles's bare arms are nearly obscene on their own, stretched and trapped above his head, muscles delineated even when fairly relaxed. Stiles hides the strength of his body beneath layers of shirts, deceptively slim until those layers are peeled away. Derek loves getting him nude, not just because Stiles is incredibly attractive and having sex with him is amazing, but because he gets to see parts of Stiles most people wouldn't even know were there.

Stiles's back is also nicely muscled, but Derek is usually drawn to the moles. He's not even sure what about them fascinates him so much, but it's hard to resist the urge to let his tongue trace the skin from one mole to the next, like Stiles's body is a paint-by-numbers canvas.

Sometime Derek is going to just tie him up and use him that way, maybe with chocolate body paint. He'll tie Stiles up to keep him still and create design after design, licking away the lines every time he wants to make something new.

"Are you going to do something?" Stiles grinds out, alerting Derek to the fact that he's been quietly admiring for several minutes now.

Derek does have plans for Stiles's punishment, but still. "Are you asking for something?" he says. Stiles will eventually learn that things will happen on Derek's time or not at all.

Stiles shifts his weight on the bed. "I thought you were going to punish me?" he asks. "You weren't doing anything."

"That could have been your punishment," Derek tells him, faintly chiding. "Not to have any touch at all." He reaches for Stiles's hips, hooks his fingers into the waistband of Stiles's underwear. "But don't worry, my impatient Stiles. You'll get your punishment."

A red flush spreads along Stiles's neck and what Derek can see of his cheeks. "Well if you'll get on with it, we can get to the good stuff."

Derek pauses from pulling off Stiles's underwear, and runs a dry finger between Stiles's cheeks to circle his hole. Stiles lets out a hitching groan, and a renewed wave of arousal permeates Stiles's scent.

"Raise your knees," Derek says, then pulls the underwear around his knees, down past his feet, and finally off. He rubs at Stiles's hole a little harder, without dipping in yet, and murmurs, "Oh, sweetheart. It can all be good stuff. Would you like me to show you?"

Derek barely waits for Stiles's nod before he retrieves one of the toys he'd previously left on the bed, plus a tube of lube. "Spread your legs," he orders, coating two of his fingers in lube. "Wider."

When Stiles is spread to his satisfaction, Derek goes back to circling his hole, this time with a lubricated finger. When the muscles begin to relax under the stimulation, Derek slides one finger in right to the third knuckle, enjoying Stiles's long hiss.

He rubs against Stiles's prostate, just a little, not holding back a smile as Stiles gasps out, "Ah-ah-ah," with every press. But as much as he loves listening to Stiles's pleasure as Derek plays with his prostate, he has something else in mind. He pulls his finger back, ignoring Stiles's whine, until he's rubbing at the muscle of Stiles's entrance, relaxing it. He adds the second finger, rubbing and scissoring until Stiles feels loose enough.

He pulls his fingers out to a noise of protest from Stiles, but takes a moment to rest his face against Stiles's ass, rubbing his face against first one cheek and then the other. Stiles smells incredible from here -- so musky this close to his core, then the scent of his pre-come, his general arousal. Derek takes it in, nuzzles against Stiles's ass again, then pulls away.

"No, come back," Stiles slurs out, his voice high, getting desperate. He always loves it when Derek plays with his ass. "Please, Derek, more. More of that."

"Not yet," Derek says, picking up the toy he left at the foot of the bed. "That was just preparation, Stiles. Another time I'll play with your ass until you're begging me to let you come, but we have something else to do right now, don't we?"

Stiles shivers, takes in a deep breath. "Yes, Derek," he mutters. He turns his head and wipes sweat off his forehead on his upper arm.

Derek makes quick work of lubing up the silicone vibrating plug in his hand, then rests the tip against Stiles's hole. "Bear down," he tells Stiles, and starts pushing it in. It's not the biggest of their collection, but it's enough that Stiles will be able to feel it.

Once fully inside, the plug fit snug against Stiles's prostate. Stiles's hips jut back briefly, but there's nothing there to further stimulate him.

"Patience," Derek murmurs. He takes off his shirt and tosses it aside, unbuttons his jeans and pulls them down and off, but leaves his briefs on for the moment. He climbs onto the bed, the other part of the toy tucked into one hand, and sits back against the headboard, finally face-to-face with Stiles. His arms still stretch above Derek's head, and his face is flushed red and glistening with a light sheen of sweat. His mouth is open as he pants in and out. His eyes fasten on Derek's face, his pupils huge within a small ring of brown. His heart pounds, thumping a beat Derek can almost feel, it seems so strong and loud.

Derek straightens his legs between Stiles's, then tugs on his hips until he's hovering above Derek's upper thighs.

"Tell me how you're doing," Derek says. "Still okay?"

Stiles closes his eyes, takes in a deep breath. "I could do with a kiss," he replies, his smile edging on a smirk. "Otherwise, I want you to get on with it."

Derek smiles back, gives him the kiss he asked for. When he pulls back, he rubs a hand along the light marks of stubble burn on Stiles's ass. "I'll get on with it," he agrees, and with no more notice than that, he brings the hand forward in a hard spank at the same time he thumbs the vibrator on.

Stiles cries out, making warmth flare in Derek's belly. Stiles is always vocal in bed, but not usually _loud_. Derek turns the vibrator off, watching Stiles's face for signs of discomfort, but seeing none. Mostly Stiles looks startled, desperate, and painfully aroused. His scent likewise indicates surprise, but no trepidation.

"Count for me, Stiles," Derek says, voice almost crooning. "I think ten sounds like a good number. When we get to ten--"

"You'll let me come?" Stiles interrupts, speaking quickly and almost stumbling over the words.

Derek tilts his head, considering him, before slowly shaking his head. "Not yet," he says. "I don't think I want to reward you with an orgasm during your punishment. I was going to say, when we get to ten, we can move on and I can fuck you or finger you or suck you, or whatever you want."

Stiles throws his head back as his hips rock forward before he controls himself and stills them. When he brings his head forward again, his eyes are closed, like the image has overwhelmed him.

"Want you to fuck me," he says -- begs, really, and Derek has to stop himself from bucking up at the words. Stiles, naked, tied up, and begging in his lap -- it's almost too much.

But Derek does have control over himself. "We'll get there, sweetheart," he assures Stiles, then raises his hand. "Now remember to count." He turns on the vibrator and brings his hand down.

"Two." 

He turns the vibrator off, and Stiles squirms against him briefly. Once Stiles moves back into place, Derek rubs his hand against the stubble burn on the other cheek, and combines spank and vibrator again.

"Three."

They get up to six before Stiles starts begging for more.

"Derek," Stiles moans, and Derek will never get enough of hearing Stiles saying his name like that, like Derek is everything he's ever needed. "Derek, please. Want you to fuck me. Want to come."

"I know," Derek says, reaching up to caress his cheek, one finger drawing gently across his cheekbone. "You're doing so well, Stiles. Just four more and then I'll fuck you. Then I'll let you come."

One more spank, and Stiles _shouts_ , "Derek _please_ , Derek, Derek, please, need to come. Need you."

Derek puts his hands on Stiles's hips, letting his thumbs rub comfortingly against the bone. "You can last, Stiles," he says firmly. "Don't think about how much you need to come. Trust that I'll take care of you. Just let yourself _be_ , Stiles. Let yourself feel it."

Stiles drags in gasping breaths, and nods. "Seven," he says, hoarse, and Derek smiles.

"Good boy," he says, and spanks him again.

Stiles doesn't beg after that. He continues his count, and his mouth remains open, half-cut-off moans escaping him when Derek's hand comes down and the vibrator assaults his prostate. His pupils blown, his eyes half-lidded, he looks drugged, absolutely immersed in the experience. He smells incredible.

Derek just wants to hug him and keep him close and protected and happy _forever_.

Right after Derek shuts the vibrator off when Stiles croaks out, "Ten," he does gather Stiles into his arms, tossing the vibrator remote to the carpet. Stiles can't hug back, not with his hands still bound, but he relaxes against Derek, slumping against him like his bones have been removed.

"You did so well," Derek whispers in his ear. "You're so beautiful, sweetheart. So good."

Stiles sighs, then nuzzles his face into Derek's neck. "Now will you fuck me?" he asks softly.

Derek tugs his head back so he can see Derek's nod. "Of course," he says. "Anything you want. Just one moment."

He reaches up to Stiles's wrists and unbuckles the handcuffs without looking, leaving them to dangle where they are as he brings Stiles's arms down and rubs his wrists.

He moves Stiles off him, to muffled protest, and lays him out on his stomach, letting him pillow his head on his crossed arms. Derek slips out of his briefs and leaves them on the floor, then eases Stiles's legs further open so he can kneel between them. "Still good?" he asks, rubbing a hand against the small of Stiles's back, right above the slowly fading pink of his ass.

"Curly fries," Stiles replies, voice somewhat slow and dreamy. He wriggles on the bed, but settles before Derek has to tell him to. "Just want you inside me."

"Soon," Derek assures him. He spreads Stiles's cheeks and draws the plug out of him, earning Derek another little wriggle. He lets it fall on top of his small pile of clothes, then coats two fingers in lube once again and sticks both into Stiles at once. That gets him a grunt, but no indications of pain or oversensitivity, so he scissors them to loosen Stiles just a little bit more, then pulls them out. He quickly coats his own cock with lube, but removes his hand again quickly, wiping it off on his thigh -- he'd been ignoring his own arousal for so long that any stimulation feels incredible, and he needs to make this good for Stiles.

He pulls Stiles's hips up until he's kneeling, then positions himself, holding the head of his cock against Stiles's hole. Further up the bed, Stiles is muttering, unintelligible words mixed with blissful noises. His hands grasp onto the sheets beneath him and twist. "Do it, Derek," he begs, the words springing from him high and clear, and Derek pushes in.

Derek loves watching this part, loves seeing Stiles's body accept him, pulling him in further, loves smelling the way Stiles's scent intensifies when their bodies connect. Derek steadily presses all the way in, Stiles's body clenching around him the entire way, until his hips rest gently against Stiles's ass. He pauses there to appreciate the tight heat, the way Stiles's heartbeat pounds even harder and then settles, the gasps and little cries that escape him.

Then Derek starts moving. He begins slow, letting Stiles feel the long slide of every inch of him as he rocks in and out, but he can't hold that pace for long. He needs to be _in_.

Stiles doesn't help Derek's control when he starts begging to come again. "Need to, ah, please, Derek, need to, please, wanna come, want, uhn, _oh my God_." His body is shaking in its need, knees trembling like they're going to collapse any moment -- but he stays in the position Derek put him, and he asks.

"Go ahead, sweetheart," Derek tells him, running a hand down his spine, gratified when it arches beneath his fingers. Then he moves his hand down to Stiles's neglected cock. He wraps his hand around it and gives one pump, two, three. "You've been so good, Stiles. So good for me. You're perfect. Go ahead and come for me."

A strangled noise that might be Derek's name erupts from Stiles's throat as his cock jerks against Derek's palm. Stiles's whole body tautens with his orgasm, and the grasp of his inner walls on Derek's cock nearly sends Derek right after him. As taut as Stiles's body went during his orgasm, though, that's how loose he becomes when it's over. Derek releases Stiles's softening cock when he feels that relaxation, and grabs onto Stiles's hips to keep himself inside as Stiles starts to slump bonelessly deeper into the mattress.

Derek considers him for a moment, every inch of him softened with satisfaction and bliss, then pulls out, petting along Stiles's side when he mumbles a protest. He shifts forward to grab a pillow from the head of the bed, raising Stiles enough to slip the pillow beneath his hips and then letting him settle down again. He stretches out Stiles's legs, then drapes himself over Stiles's body, propping himself up on one arm.

"Comfortable?" he asks, pressing a warm, wet kiss to the side of Stiles's neck nearest him.

"Mmm," Stiles hums, turning his face to one side. "Will be when you get back inside. Want to feel you come in me."

In the beginning of their sexual relationship, Stiles couldn't say anything like that without blushing. Now he has a satisfied smile on his face and wiggles his hips, letting out a puff of laughter.

Derek kisses his neck again because he has to. He can't resist Stiles when he's happy, playful, and still wanting. He keeps trailing open-mouthed kisses along Stiles's upper back even as he reaches down to guide himself back into the depths of Stiles's body.

He sinks back in with a groan, and to a long sigh from Stiles. His leverage isn't nearly as good from this position, but he has all of Stiles's long, warm body beneath him, and that makes up for the shallowness of his thrusts.

With Stiles happy, relaxed, and satisfied under him, he gives himself permission to let go, to fall into the sensation of being inside Stiles, part of Stiles. He rocks in and out, losing track of time, of anything except Stiles's short happy noises and the heat of him.

His own orgasm comes upon him like the tide creeping to shore, then drags him away with the undertow as he buries himself completely inside Stiles and begins to come. He bites at the join of Stiles's neck and shoulder, careful not to break the skin, but needing something to anchor him as pleasure washes over him.

When he surfaces again, he's collapsed over Stiles, face buried in his neck and still inside him. Stiles has grabbed his arms and pulled them over his own, and almost every part of Derek is covering almost every part of Stiles.

Derek nuzzles over Stiles's neck, taking a minute to breathe over him, scenting him. His scent right now is almost better than being inside him -- the two of them intertwined, bound in intimacy and pleasure, part of each other.

Then he gathers his strength and lifts himself away from Stiles, gently drawing his hands away when Stiles's fingers tighten on them. "I'll be right back," he says, sitting up, pressing a kiss to Stiles's shoulder before he stands.

He doesn't want to leave Stiles alone long, especially not after something so intense, so he hurries through grabbing the Gatorade set out in the kitchen and wetting a soft washcloth in the bathroom and bringing it and a dry one back to the bed. Stiles has shifted to his side, but otherwise hasn't moved.

Derek slides back into bed next to him, setting the Gatorade on the nightstand and the washcloths on his knees. "Can you sit up, Stiles?" he asks. "You need to drink something."

"Tired," Stiles complains, but he gets one hand under him and pushes up, moving over until he can lean against Derek. Derek brings his arm around Stiles's shoulders and rests his hand on Stiles's waist.

He already uncapped the Gatorade, Stiles's favorite flavor, and now he grabs it and holds it to Stiles's mouth, letting him take small sips. Stiles raises an eyebrow at the hand-feeding, but lets it pass without comment.

When Derek thinks he's had enough of the Gatorade, he puts it aside and takes up the wet washcloth. "Just shift over a bit more," he says, helping Stiles until he's sprawled more fully over Derek's side, his legs spread enough to let one of Derek's knees between them. Derek gently cleans up the lube and come on his ass and leaking out of his reddened hole, then balls up that side and uses the other to wipe away the spray of Stiles's come that made it to his stomach and chest.

Derek tosses that washcloth into the bathroom, hearing it splat into the tub, then takes the dry washcloth and wipes Stiles all over his body, paying particular attention to his cock and balls and his ass. He uses the other side to scrub at the small wet spots on the sheets, then tosses it to join the other washcloth. Once he's done, he wiggles them up to the pillows piled at the head of the bed, draws the covers over them, and takes Stiles more fully into his arms.

"Ready to talk about it yet?" Derek murmurs as Stiles remains silent for several minutes.

Stiles shakes his head from where it's tucked against Derek's neck. "Can't think," he mumbles. "Don't want to think. My brain's never this quiet, Derek. Let me enjoy it some more before you make me turn it on again."

Derek chuckles and runs a soothing hand up and down Stiles's back. "You did enjoy it, then? No problems?"

Stiles huffs a breath against Derek's neck. "You can't see me, but I'm rolling my eyes. I loved it, Derek, as I'm sure you could tell. You were awesome, everything I needed. I want to do it again sometime, but for now I would like to just shut up and cuddle."

Derek smiles, ducking his chin to press a kiss on the crown of Stiles's head. "Cuddling it is," Derek agrees. "Anything you need."

He closes his eyes, resting his face against Stiles's hair. Later, when Stiles is asleep, still pressed naked against him, warm and trusting, Derek kisses his hair again and whispers, "And thank _you_ for giving me what I need."


End file.
